The Experiment
by trenchcoatedslytherin
Summary: When Sherlock's bored, there is no telling what he'll do. In this case it involves handcuffs, John, and dancing. Rated T for future chapters and because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! This is my first fanfiction, and I would enjoy if you left comments and critiques. If you see any problems please message me. I plan on updating at the minimum a chapter a week, probably more. I'm not to sure how long I want this story to be yet, seeing as I had originally planed for it to be a one shot but my hands had other ideas.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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"Bored!" Sherlock declared reaching for where he knew John kept his gun.

Only, the gun was no longer there. He stretched his hand back farther reaching around in the drawer trying to search through it entirely without having to get up. However, much to his dissatisfaction the gun was not there. Huffing in annoyance he stretched out and then proceeded to flip himself off of the couch. He stepped over the table in front of him as his eyes flitted around the room, analyzing each detail trying to figure out where John could have hid it.

Sensing that there had been no disturbances to any part of the room, he concluded that the gun was no longer there and decided to check his room next. He, however, failed in finding it in there either. He then proceeded to check all the other rooms in the house, only to come up empty handed.

Irritated that John had gotten the best of him, he wrinkled up his nose and attempted to summon up an experiment that would irritate John. Perhaps, he would slather dog mucus over his books and pretend that it was important information that he needed to place on his blog(not that John would care, seeing as he believed his own blog to be superior to Sherlock's). He could donate one of his jumpers to a homeless cat. Or he could put toes in his mugs, or eyeballs in the jam.

He reached into his pants pocket and took out his phone to text Molly and ask what spare body parts she had, if any, that he could use. When instead his hands came in contact with a pair of handcuffs. His eyes lit up slightly with a new idea. A way to get back at John and a way to cure his boredom.

Whipping his phone out, from his other pocket, he quickly sent a text to a manufacturer who owed him a favor. Within a minute he got a response. His lips twitched upward slightly. Pulling on his coat, he pushed his collar upwards and swooshed out of the flat.

* * *

When John arrived home that evening to an almost silent house he became slightly suspicious. He had already been moderately worried earlier when he had noticed how uneasy Sherlock was becoming, London hadn't had any murders for over a week. Nine days to be exact and it seemed like Sherlock was coming closer and closer to his breaking point.

The other day when he had came home from work he had found him mixing suspicious substances together in the kitchen. When John had queried about his doings, Sherlock had responded saying, as usual, 'it's an experiment' needless to say the experiment hadn't ended too well.

John who hadn't had much to drink that day was dying of thirst and went to get the kettle. However, when he was turning around to place it on the stove he bumped into Sherlock, who then bumped into the counter, which held all the chemicals. The impact knocked over two of the test tubes towards one of the beakers.

Sherlock who caught on to what was about to happen pushed John down and out of the way before following himself. However, while John tried to turn his head out of the way to keep from seeing the explosion that was sure to happen within the next few milliseconds, Sherlock instead turned his face towards it, wanting to see the exact reaction and to record it down in his mind palace.

When the two test tubes came in contact with the beaker, it was silent for a moment while the three substances combined and then; BOOM! Fire erupted from inside the beaker, flinging itself upwards to the ceiling and then splattering out to the cabinets, as the glass exploded outwards, a purple gas began to fill the kitchen. John quickly covered his mouth in order to keep the contaminated air out, as Sherlock continued watching.

Needless to say, the kitchen is almost beyond usage now and John told Sherlock he wasn't allowed in there anymore. Not that he thought Sherlock would actually listen, because he knew he wouldn't, but because he didn't want Sherlock to get hurt, or to accidentally burn Baker Street down but that was beside the point.

Shaking his head at the memory, John cautiously ascended the stairs with Chinese takeaway in hand. As he got closer to the door to the flat he started hearing what he believed to be the TV. For a moment this seemed like a good thing, but once again he noticed the absence of Sherlock. Anytime Sherlock watched a show, he couldn't help but yell at it every couple minutes. There was always the possibility that Sherlock could be in his mind palace, but he had had over a week to hide out in there and John doubted that there was much else in there to keep Sherlock busy.

Deciding that in this case caution was not an advantage, he fastened his pace and yanked the door open, only to find Sherlock sitting in his chair staring blankly at the TV. Upon hearing John's arrival he looked up and smiled a smile that John knew had only one meaning, trouble. Slightly worried because everything appeared to be the same as he had left it which meant that whatever Sherlock had planned would involve him and that whatever was going to happen would happen soon, uncertainly he moved forward to the table beside Sherlock's chair and sat down.

John began placing the food out on the table, setting up a plate for him and for Sherlock. When he finished Sherlock's plate, making sure that the he hadn't gotten any peas or peppers on the plate because he knew Sherlock hated those and would refuse to eat if he left them on it, he turned slightly in his chair and held it out to him, fully prepared to have to chastise him until he would eat as was the usual protocol. However, Sherlock had other plans he reached out with both hands, one grabbed the plate and the other went to John's wrist. For a second John froze up, and just as he was about to pull his wrist away he heard a click.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Okay here's chapter 2, I'll probably post 3 on or around Saturday this week. Let me know what you think of this, if there are any mistakes that I didn't catch or what not. I would love some critiques. Anyways enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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John attempted to pull his hand away from Sherlock's,only he wasn't quite able to. Looking down he spotted a pair of silver shining cuffs, one was wrapped around his wrist and the other wrapped around Sherlock's much bonier wrist. He pulled his hand back once more to check that Sherlock did in fact put handcuffs on his hands and that it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him. He looked up and his eyes connected with Sherlock's, who was wearing a smile that he usually saved for the people he wanted to terrify.

"Sherlock," John growled.

"John," Sherlock commented offhandedly as he took the plate that was in John's hand and balanced it on the arm of his chair.

"Sherlock, Take. It. Off. Now." John commanded in what Sherlock referred to as his solider voice.

"Best to lower your voice, someone could overhear, people might start thinking that you're not 'not gay'."

Irked John stood up, jerking Sherlock with him.

"It's too late for that, now take them off Sherlock."

"No," he countered childishly, looking satisfied.

"Give me the key, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head, still wearing that awful look of pride. John's eyes locked with Sherlock's, as they entered a staring contest to determine who would be the dominate one in this case. It would be John of course, Sherlock was his best friend but that didn't mean he wanted to drag him all over the place. He was rude for one and had thrust John into some very inconvenient situations with girlfriends, authority figures, and strangers. Also, as Sherlock mentioned earlier people already speculated about their relationship, the handcuffs wouldn't exactly quell the gossip.

Deciding that if anything was going to be done, John would have to do it himself, he abruptly made the choice to lunge towards Sherlock, in order to try and fish the key out of one of his pockets in which it had to be hiding. This was in all honesty a poorly executed tactic. Sherlock, having not expected John to react in such a way, became quickly unbalanced uponbeing attacked with John's weight. John who hadn't been expecting Sherlock to fall back, was unable to stand his ground and stop them both from falling, so as Sherlock fell back so did he due to the cuffs binding them together.

Sherlock landed roughly on the ground with John falling on top of him. Sherlock still in shock by the turn of events, laid still underneath John. John however remained unperturbed, adjusting quickly to the situation and getting back to the task at hand, finding the key. Seeing that Sherlock wasn't wearing a jacket or a shirt with pockets, he immediately reached down into his pants pocket. The only person he believed would see them would be Mycroft or Anthea maybe someone else depending on who Mycroft had running surveillance on them. Besides, he'd rather have other people seeing him reaching into Sherlock's pocket then having them see him walking around tied to him, God knows what people would think then.

John shuddered slightly at the thought, before forcing his attention back to the pocket. Much to his disappointment the only thing in it was a phone. Worry began to cloud his mind and he franticly shoved his hand into Sherlock's other pocket, only there was nothing in there either. John began doubting himself, maybe he hadn't searched thoroughly enough and had simply not felt the key. Desperately, he brought his hand back to the first pocket and at that very same moment the door swung open.

Mrs. Hudson strolled in, carrying a plate of tea and biscuits. She propped the door open all the way and looked around not spotting John or Sherlock yet.

"Boys! I made a cuppa," she announced as she moved closer to the spot where John was currently laying on Sherlock.

It was at the moment Sherlock regained his senses and squirmed slightly under John. John in turn quickly tried to slide off Sherlock, however his wrist was caught in Sherlock's pants and instead of rolling off Sherlock- and just laying there side by side which was his plan, for while Mrs. Hudson was in the room- he ended up flipping himself and Sherlock over.

Mrs. Hudson catching sight of Sherlock now, opened her mouth to say something else only to close it once again. In front of her was a scene she had suspected many times, yet had never seen. Sherlock was straddling John, John looked flushed with his hand still stuck in Sherlock's pants while John's other hand was connected to Sherlock's through a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh!" she jumped slightly at the sight of them before giving the pair a knowing smile and placing the tray with the tea and biscuits down.

"I'll just leave you boys to it then."

"Wha-No, no, Mrs. Hudson we weren't," John struggled to get out a sentence, as he finally yanked his wrist free from Sherlock's pocket.

"It's fine, dearie. When I was young, I couldn't keep my hands off my husband either," she explained as she headed out of the room and shut the door.

"Mrs. Hudson for the last time Sherlock and I aren't together," he proclaimed after her, knowing that the argument was futile at this point.

He huffed as Sherlock slid off him, his cheeks carrying a pink tinge. Sherlock cleared his throat as John sat up, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you gonna uncufff us now?"

"Ah, yes ... No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, there is no key. Well there was a key, but not anymore."

Sighing John shook his head irritated, "Well, then break them off or get a new key."

"We can't do that either," Sherlock said rolling his eyes at John.

"And why's that?" John demanded, raising his voice."

"As always you see John, yet you do not observe," he stated flatly, then he lifted his wrist that was connected to the cuffs and pushed it towards John's face.

John stared at them for a moment uncomprehending, before it dawned on him. He grabbed the cuffs and inspected them thoroughly, turning them over every which way. Finally, he lifted his eyes to Sherlock's.

"Why, why Sherlock would you buy a pair of handcuffs without a lock?"

Sherlock gave am exaggerated groan, pretending that John's ignorance annoyed him even though it was quite the contrary. Instead he was secrectly pleased that he was about to get to announce the plot twist in his scheme.

"There was a key, but then I melted it into the lock," Sherlock deadpanned as if it were obvious.

John was visibly shaking now in anger, "And why, would you do that?"

"You should know," Sherlock pouted slightly, still upset that John had beaten him at his own game that morning.

"Oh, so this-this is my fault!" John guaffawed.

"Yes," Sherlock crossed his arm childishly, which pulled John closer to him.

"Okay then, what did I do?"

"Ugh," he groaned throwing his hands up, "you hid your gun! So I had nothing to do. John, you know how I need distractions, especially when London is this boring."

"I didn't move my gun!"

"Then where is it?"

John stood up, dragging Sherlock with him. He shoved open the drawer, and moved his laptop out of the way. Underneath a pile of papers was John's gun. Sherlock appeared mildly suprised by this turn of events but refused to apologize.

"See, now let's find someone to get these off," John claimed turning around, ready to leave.

"Ah, yes it seems I forgot to mention something. The cuffs aren't exactly breakable."


End file.
